


2Cool + 2B = 4Gotten

by FiccinDylan



Series: Life Because of It [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Memory Loss, Parrish is a small mention, Unrequited Love, actually a lot more ~feels than anticipated, go figure, highschool, ian nelson - Freeform, not really smutty, picks up after 4x01, sterek, young!Derek, young!sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Braeden and Scott carry the listless body out of La Iglesia towards their ragtag pack. Malia's eyes flash blue as she looks between the body and Stiles excitedly.</p><p>"Is that him? Is that Derek?" She waits impatiently for an answer as Stiles goes suddenly quiet, trying to process what he's seeing.  He swallows hard as his heart catches in his chest.  </p><p><i>'It can't be, but... it is.'</i> Stiles blinks several times as an image he's only heretofore associated with 2-dimensionality and horniness materializes in front of him.  A boy, no older than 17 lifts his head weakly and peers at Stiles.  He doesn't seem to recognize him quite yet, but he seems to understand that some familiarity exists.  He gives Stiles a shallow grin that hits him like a wave, crashing into his body and culminating in his balls.  Want and desire emanate from his fingers, his toes and every pore on his body.  His sweat is steeped in lust and he gets a little dizzy from the sudden u-turn his blood does as it rushes quickly south.</p><p>He looks at the boy once more and finally nods, answering Malia without moving his gaze.</p><p>"Y-yeah. Well, kind of, but mostly.  That's... that's Derek Hale."</p>
            </blockquote>





	2Cool + 2B = 4Gotten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sterekismylife](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sterekismylife), [ColetheWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/gifts).



> The conversation went like this:
> 
> Me: HOW DOES STILES RECOGNIZE THAT'S DEREK?! #didtheywatchtheflashbackepisode?
> 
> G: He obviously has Derek's yearbook, duh.
> 
> Me: YES! And the pages are stuck together, I mean whaaaa-
> 
> G: OMG FIC IT
> 
> C: DO IT!
> 
> Me: YES!
> 
> So you know... keep that in mind.

Braeden and Scott carry the listless body out of La Iglesia towards their ragtag pack. Malia's eyes flash blue as she looks between the body and Stiles excitedly.

"Is that him? Is that Derek?" She waits impatiently for an answer as Stiles goes suddenly quiet, trying to process what he's seeing.  He swallows hard as his heart catches in his chest.  

' _It can't be, but... it is_.' Stiles blinks several times as an image he's only heretofore associated with 2-dimensionality and horniness materializes in front of him.  A boy, no older than 17 lifts his head weakly and peers at Stiles.  He doesn't seem to recognize him quite yet, but he seems to understand that some familiarity exists.  He gives Stiles a shallow grin that hits him like a wave, crashing into his body and culminating in his balls.  He can feel the tingle throbbing from his testicular epicenter to every vestigial point on his body.  Want and desire emanate from his fingers, his toes and every pore on his body.  His sweat is steeped in lust and he gets a little dizzy from the sudden u-turn his blood does as it rushes quickly south.

He tries to cover his sensory overload by upping his normal franticness; hoping that will confuse the supernatural creatures that can smell his arousal.  He looks at the boy once more and finally nods, answering Malia without moving his gaze.

"Y-yeah. Well, kind of, but mostly.  That's... that's Derek Hale."

Scott looked at Stiles curiously.

"Yeah, it's Derek, I can smell him, but how did you know it was Derek, Stiles?"

"I've seen… his picture.  In a yearbook."  Scott listened for Stiles' heart which beat normally indicating Stiles was telling the truth.  Satisfied, he and Braeden carried young Derek Hale to the Jeep.  As they passed Stiles, Derek reached out a hand and lightly grabbed Stiles' collar.  Stiles froze but stood resolute.  The young man growled at Stiles, not in a menacing way; but a warning growl, a possessive growl.  It was oddly comforting to Stiles.

"Yep, that's definitely Derek." Stiles quipped as everyone rolled their eyes and began to divide themselves between the transportation options available.  Stiles ended up with Lydia, Malia and Derek in the backseat while Scott and Kira shared the shotgun position next to him.  Kira was fast asleep with her head on Scott's shoulder.  Lydia absentmindedly ran her fingers through Derek's hair, soothing him while he slept fitfully with his head in her lap.  Her hand moved, but she was in another world either scheming their next move or contemplating her next outfit; Stiles could never tell what was happening in her head.  Malia had her face pressed against the back window snore-snarling at whatever bunny she was chasing in her dream.  

Stiles tried his best to pay attention to the road, but couldn't believe that the version of his crush that he was dying to know more about was not only tangible, but in his backseat.  He sighed though, since as always, he was just out of reach.  He ignored Scott's stares as he checked the rear-view mirror every 30 seconds to see if Derek stirred from his sleep.  Scott did not like being ignored.

"Dude, why do you keep staring at him?” He asked in a hushed, yet forced whisper. “I mean, I know it's weird, but we've seen weirder, right?  Hell, we saw Jackson butt ass naked as he turned into a werewolf.  Nothing's more scarier than Jackson's werewolf balls, bro."  Stiles smiled and shook his head.

"No man, it's not that.  Look, I'll tell you later, let's just get back so we can straighten this out."

"Okay dude, but I won't forget about this, so don't even think that I will."  Stiles nodded as Scott settled back into his seat and lay his head back on the headrest.

Once the coast was clear and everyone else was preoccupied Stiles upped his checks from every 30 seconds to 15.  He thought about the picture he still has a copy of in his pillowcase.  

It was a photo from a yearbook.  Class of something scratched out.  Stiles knew the aging process on werewolves was sketchy at best so he assumed they scratched out the years as a way of making the photos seem more timeless.  He'd found the yearbook wedged between Derek's mattresses one lonely evening about a year ago.  

Derek always fascinated Stiles.  While his grumpiness left much to be desired, Stiles could handle it because he understood the origins.  But what was Derek like before the fire? Before the darkness and the betrayal that was Kate?  What was Derek like as a kid who just wanted to play sports and get laid... or even fall in love?

Before Stiles could remember to respect Derek's privacy and boundaries, he found his thumb took on a life of its own as it leafed through the Beacon Hills High Yearbook.  It seemed like Derek was fairly popular.  Pictures of him at homecoming and on the lacrosse and basketball teams showed a sure young man with his whole life in front of him.

He skimmed through the pages listed in the index indicating every moment of Derek Hale in the book. In this year there were 24; impressive.  The next yearbook, the one after Derek's sophomore year, there were only 3.  One picture was the obligatory Scholastic school pic. One was Derek, in a picture with Paige. It was an In Memoriam page dedicated to the girl who'd lost her life the year before, a story that Stiles only slightly remembered overhearing his dad talking to his mom about.  The picture was a stolen moment, Paige and Derek in the music room; Paige with her cello, Derek with his heart. They had the look of first love, of fear, of hope and of promise.

The last picture was a half page in the graduating section. Even though Derek was only a Junior, he wouldn't be returning the next year. The Hales were sticklers for tradition and petitioned the school to allow them a half page praising their only son as they'd done for Peter the year before. So there was a picture of Derek, staring solemnly into the camera with what would be the beginnings of a characteristic scowl. Stiles stole the book that night and took it home with him.

He took out his phone and looked at the Derek of today in contrast with the Derek of then; it was uncanny how different they looked, but also how much of the same.  The main physical difference was the eyes.  Young Derek had welcoming, bright piercing eyes that felt like a pool of dark chocolate ready to dive into.  Present day Derek's eyes were green and dark; reminiscent of an ocean bay in the middle of a perfect storm.  They were foreboding and mysterious, but most importantly they required permission to pass beyond them.  You couldn't access his soul, his heart or his mind like you could with the younger version of the photo.

A picture is worth a thousand words but is that enough to fall in love?  For Stiles, the answer was yes.  He looked at the photos every night before he went to bed, crafting his  own Derek between the two.  The youth, enthusiasm and vivacity of the former Hale and the piercing intensity and rare but still overwhelming compassion of the latter.  His Derek would be slow to smile, but when he did it would light up a room.  His eyes -regardless of color- would shine bright, scintillating under whatever source of light happened to befall them.

He would take the elder Hale’s physic, but meld it with the kindness of the younger Hale’s demeanor.  The older yearbook had lots of signatures and quotes from his classmates wishing him a happy summer, or telling him they couldn’t wait to see him later that night at the after party.  Stiles could barely believe the Derek had friends, much less people who treasured him as one kid claimed.  It was on a picture of he and Derek on a stage, holding scripts (Derek acted?!) and laughing with their arms around each other.  It was friendly, yes, but it was also… intimate.  Almost brotherly.  Derek had someone that he felt was like a brother to him.  Stiles would stare at this picture until his eyes went blurry, imagining a hundred different scenarios that led to this pose.  Comparing it to the many pictures of he and Scott that were the same.  

The kid signed his name with a gigantic “P” followed by an inscrutable squiggle, the spoon of the P encircling their faces, framing them in.  The picture was color and close so you could see the kid’s laughing blue eyes next to Derek’s whose seemed to be inviting you into their world, even through the crinkle of his laugh.  Derek had someone who loved him once.  He had someone who loved him now, but he would never know it.

Stiles didn’t touch himself to the picture right away.  It started when he realized that the Derek he’d created from the past and present would never be his future.  The Derek now was too broken to be fixed, and too fragile to be molded.  And it wasn’t that Stiles wasn’t up to the task, but more that Derek wasn’t able to allow himself to give in.  Life kicked his ass and he was fine with coasting until it was over.  This tore Stiles up inside as he watched the love of his life constantly thrust into situations where, if he would just give up the false sense of control he clinged to, the end result may not be as damaging.  Hell, it might even be positive!  But this was not Derek’s path.  He was an old-fashioned young man who was set in his ways. Stiles knew he would never know him as a lover, only as a tale of caution.

He looked one night at the message “P scribble” left for Derek.  “ _Hey babe!  Can I call you babe?  You’re a fucking treasure, don’t ever forget it!_ ”  

Stiles imagined what would happen if he went up to Derek, some normal everyday, after the pack disassembled and Stiles stayed behind to research.  If he went to Derek and said, "Hey babe!" And Derek would look at him strangely, like he was a forgotten memory.  Then Stiles would walk over to him boldly, surely, and place a hand on the scruff of Derek's neck.  He would squeeze lightly, evicting the tension that squatted there for far too long.  He would kiss Derek lightly on his cheek and then peer into those stormy, violent eyes and say,

"You're a fucking treasure, don't ever forget it." And maybe Derek would grab him roughly by his collar and shove him against wall and look him angrily yet hungry and confused.  Stiles would maintain an uncharacteristic calm and place his hands gently over the fists grasping his collar and he'd stare into Derek's eyes and say again,

"You're a fucking treasure, you're my fucking treasure, Derek. You're-" and he wouldn't be able to finish the sentence because Derek's mouth would kiss the compliment out of him, swallowing it and hoping it would absorb into his heart; healing the holes thought too gaping to fill. He would kiss Stiles with permanence and determination, falling into his mouth, allowing his entire self to be enveloped by Stiles’ words.  He would pick Stiles up and carry him to the bed, snarling and nipping and biting and claiming and letting go but still at war with himself.  He'd wonder who the hell this boy thought he was and why should Derek trust him, but Derek would shut up that voice with an answer too simple for argument.  This was Stiles, and Derek was his treasure.

This thought was enough to make Stiles’ cum cover the yearbook pages.  He cursed and hurriedly ran into the bathroom to grab a damp towel to try and salvage the damage.  He blotted at the pages and used a hair dryer to make sure they wouldn't wrinkle.  He was surprised by the force of his orgasm, he'd hardly even noticed he had his dick out much less was stroking it to the thought of Derek.  

Before he could be ashamed he turned to another page where a girl signed cheekily " _See you in 7 hours for 7 minutes ;)_ ”  Thinking about those 7 minutes caused Stiles another clean-up.  He became transfixed, memorizing every heartfelt message, devising a million scenarios, rubbing himself raw and falling in love with this part of a man he only thought was an ideal.  

But this man wasn’t an ideal, he was real and he was in Stiles’ backseat, and he was awake.

“Hey buddy, umm… why don’t you lay back down, you need to rest.”  The young man said nothing, just looked at Stiles in the rearview mirror, searching for something.  His expression was undefined like the Derek that Stiles knew, but it held a kindness like the Derek that Stiles discovered.  The boy opened his mouth suddenly, his cheeks slightly flushing.

“I have to piss.”  Stiles eyes widened as he searched for a place to pull over.  

“Uhh, yeah, gimme just a moment.”  Everyone else in the Jeep was asleep and Braeden was far ahead of them waiting at the next checkpoint for them to show up.  Stiles pulled over and helped Derek climb over the seat and out of the driver’s side.  Stiles followed him as he searched for a place to relieve himself.  Derek stopped suddenly and looked back at Stiles.

“I don’t remember much, but I think I can handle this one on my own.”  Stiles flailed a little bit at the misunderstanding.

“Oh!  Dude, no, it’s not… it’s just-”  He exhaled and tried again.  “I kinda gotta make sure that you stay near, you know?  I mean, this is some crazy shit and-”  Derek puts up his hands groggily, giving in.

“Okay, okay.  See that rock over there?  I’m going to go piss behind it.  Is that okay?”  The rock is about 20 paces, Stiles figures either way he’s screwed if Derek decides to run so he nods feigning confidence.  Derek pisses and on his way back holds Stiles’ gaze.  Stiles wonders if this is the Derek of now, trapped in the body of then, or if this is the Derek of then, all packaged up.  He thinks he gets his answer when Derek suddenly grabs his collar shoving him against the Jeep.  

Scott is awake in seconds and out of the car standing behind Derek, his red eyes flashing.  

“Derek what the hell?  Let him go!”  Derek’s eyes flash blue as he blinks hard at Stiles.  Again, the intensity and preternatural anger are there, but behind his eyes, there’s something else.  Stiles holds out his hand to calm Scott.

“Derek?”  Stiles is timid at first, so he clears his throat and tries again.  “Derek.  Do you… do you know me?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! I like kudos, but I'm extra slutty for comments. :D


End file.
